L'inconnu

Business was unusually good for a Wednesday night, and it had been such a long shift already. Not many private dances, but the men were tipping well on stage for once. It was about halfway through, so for the last four hours I had been going onstage, doing my set, and then going around to thank each person who'd come up to put money in the little black garter on my thigh. There weren't many girls that night, so that meant that by the time I'd made my rounds and found a table to join, after a few minutes I was having to go right back up for another set. I didn't really mind, though. It staved off boredom and as I said, at least they were being generous onstage even if none of us had much time to hustle dances in between.

Around 11pm things finally started to slow down as the businessmen slowly trickled out the door, not wanting to be out so late that the next day at work was murder. I decided to take the opportunity to head to the back to spend a few minutes talking to my buddy on the security staff. They always had the best stories and I usually missed the good ones while I was running around during the course of the night. There was almost always some idiot who had bowed up at him to show off for the friends he was with, just drunk enough to think he could take the guy who was twice his size, or someone who had to be thrown out for trying to touch the girls even though he'd been warned repeatedly.

Touching was not allowed, either by the customers or the girls, a rule that I was generally pretty happy with. I wasn't there to get felt up by every random guy who thought a dollar or twenty bought him more access than it did. You kind of had to allow some touching, regardless of the rules, or you'd wind up in a situation you didn't want to be in. Most of the girls let the guys do things that were relatively harmless, like touching their stomachs or the outside of their legs, their arms, things like that, because if you were too strict about it then the guy was more likely to make a sudden movement and go straight for the goods, to grab your breast or try to force a hand into your G-string. If you tolerated the more innocuous things, they'd either be content with that and behave, or they'd slowly try to creep towards the more interesting parts hoping you wouldn't notice, giving you ample time to catch on and gently guide their hands away from more intimate areas before they ever got there.

I was almost up to my friend at the back of the club when I felt a hand on my arm, like someone had caught up to me from behind. It was one of the customers I'd seen over by the pool tables earlier, but who hadn't come up to my stage as far as I remembered. I'd been hoping he would, he stood out, but I just figured maybe I wasn't his type or he didn't like to be in front of everyone else. Some of them were shy like that and preferred to tip more discreetly. When he never came up I sort of forgot about him and moved on, but apparently he'd noticed me too.

He didn't even introduce himself, just half smiled and asked if I had time to do a dance. "Absolutely, let's go", I said, and took his arm to steer him towards the room with the private booths. Talking to my friend would have to wait. Off the bat, I was nervous. He was even more attractive up close, tall and tanned, with thick dark hair. To this day I even still remember what he was wearing-- a dark burgundy professional looking button-down shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes, like he'd come to the club straight from the office.

I also remember he barely spoke a word the entire time, just sat there in the chair across from mine as we waited for the next song to start, outwardly looking totally relaxed except for the burning I could see in his eyes. I finally gave up awkwardly trying to make conversation. Clearly he wasn't interested in small talk, but somehow the silence made him even hotter, more anonymous. I could feel heat rising in my face and my nipples hardening under my thin, stretchy red dress. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I wondered, slightly annoyed with myself. "He's a customer, off-limits. You're supposed to be turning him on, not the other way around. Stop it!"

But it didn't stop. I never did figure out what it was that got to me so badly about him. Yes, he was attractive, but not in a drop-dead gorgeous sort of way. Maybe it was one of those rare instances of just pure, raw sexual chemistry where something primal in him was speaking to something primal in me, a classic case of lust at first sight, I don't know, but there was something about this guy that pushed all my buttons in a way that NEVER happened at work. I could have barely told you what most of the guys I danced for looked like most of the time, and while I faked engagement really well and gave good dances, mentally I was almost always checked out, absently thinking about what I needed to pick up from the store on the way home or just anxious to get back and find out what happened next in whatever book I was reading at the time, my mind going in a hundred random directions while my body was on autopilot going through the motions. I was certainly not fighting the urge to let those large, strong looking hands wander wherever they wanted once the music started. Good God, this was ridiculous. "I shouldn't BE nervous.", I thought. "I've been doing this for seven years, and here I am practically shaking like a newbie. Way to be professional, Ana."

I heard the next song come on and stood up. I had to turn around to unfasten my dress; I just couldn't bring myself to do it facing him for some reason. Maybe I didn't want to look him in the eye, afraid he'd catch a glimpse of how much my desire was mirroring his own, that I'd give myself away. I hoped he couldn't see how hard my heart was pounding- it felt like it was jarring my entire body every time it hammered against my chest. "Just do your job. You've done this a hundred times, it's just like any other dance."

Finally I felt a little self-control coming back as I went into my routine. I stepped out of the dress and turned around to face him, bending to put my hands on his legs as I dropped my head and slowly dragged my hair along his length, working my way up to barely let the side of my face graze the side of his and then pulling back a little, just enough to make eye-contact before turning over to rest the back of my head against his shoulder, giving him a view straight down the front of my body as I moved against him, my hand drifting up to curl around the nape of his neck.

We weren't supposed to grind during dances, but the more I moved, the more I couldn't resist. I wanted to know what he felt like, to get a sense of his shape through his clothing, to feel his hardness and maybe relieve a little of the pressure that was building in me, too. I was getting so wet, being pressed against him like that, so close, feeling the firmness of his chest against my back. I could feel my self-control starting to slip away again. I dropped my hips a little until my ass made contact, feeling him steadily growing bigger beneath me. He must have taken it as an invitation because his hands started gliding along my thighs, a little tentatively at first to see what I'd do, then more confidently when I didn't stop him. He wandered higher, along my waist, moving to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples with one hand, the other lightly tracing the tips of his fingers along my inner thigh, testing how far I'd let him go. It thoroughly undid me. I knew I should push his hands away, put them back on the outside of my legs, but I just couldn't. I kept telling myself just a few more seconds, I'll just enjoy it for a few more seconds and then I'll make him stop. A few more seconds couldn't hurt, right? But I was never able to bring myself to move to do it.

It wasn't long before I could feel my clit aching to be touched, growing frustrated at the empty air around it. I broke, moving his hand onto me, giving him permission. My panties were soaked and the hand on them now just made the longing worse. I needed more. I flipped around and straddled him, feet on the floor, rubbing against his cock through the fabric, my face nestled in the curve of his neck. God, he felt so good. I wanted him inside me more than I wanted my own life right then. His hands closed around my hips to pull me harder against him, wanting more friction. I didn't even try to pull away. I didn't care. I had already abandoned all reason, all rules forgotten, everything was forgotten in that moment except me and this stranger that I wanted so badly.

His breathing quickened and then his mouth was near my ear, ordering me to turn around again. I didn't object, and in an instant I was leaning back against him, heat radiating through his pants as his hand returned to my pussy, circling my clit through the fabric, refusing to let up until he knew I was about to cum before finally slipping his hand under the waistband. I was so close. I could feel it building as he touched me, getting me nearer and nearer that edge, relentless. The song started fading and I whimpered, fearing it was about to end, then breathily asking if he wanted to keep going through the next one, my chest so tight with desire I could barely get the words out. I felt him nod and push his fingers deeper as I pushed back against them, but then he slowed down, keeping me just on the edge but not taking me over, teasing me.

His hand had relaxed almost imperceptibly but was still stroking me, letting me regain my senses a little before starting to build me back up, and gradually I became aware of the other hand underneath me, working at his zipper. I knew I should have gotten up and stopped right then, but the fire inside me was already raging too intensely again, consuming me and burning through all rational thought. "Keep your legs together, between mine", he murmured in my ear, and pulled the back of my g down just enough to give him access. A moment later I felt his bare skin sliding along me as I moved, rubbing it against me with nothing between us, probing, searching. Whatever last bit of resistance I had finally evaporated and I raised up, positioning myself over him and then lowering myself back down, enveloping him, reveling in the sensation of him filling me, wanting to scream with the pleasure of it. I felt ready to explode, part of me feeling as though I'd lost my mind, knowing how reckless and wrong this was but somehow unable to stop. It felt too good and I wanted it too much.

I was pushing back on him, burying him inside me as deeply as I could, bucking hard, his hand still fingering my clit, driving me to orgasm faster than I'd ever cum in my life, the other hand going over my mouth when my moans got too loud. As it subsided, I slowed down to lean forward and rest my hands on the empty chair in front of me, feeling him push into me from below as I leveraged the chair to meet his thrusts, building the intensity again as we went. I felt him grow bigger and his body tensed around mine, his hips lifting me slightly as I hit my second orgasm and clamped down hard on his cock, my skin ablaze with the flood of pleasure being released as I felt him spurting into me, neither of us unable to hold on anymore.

The second song was winding down just as we finished, and I breathed in contentedly as I felt him slide out of me, staying still as he told me to wait, not to move while he zipped up, needing my body for cover. I obliged and then put the back of my g back in place before I stooped to pick up my dress from the floor. He politely waited for me to finish straightening it, and then we started for the entrance to the booths. He stopped in the doorway and tried to kiss me, but we were too much in the open, too many eyes on us. I hugged him, whispered a thank you in his ear before I pulled back, and that was it. He gave me another one of his half smiles, paid me without a word, and left. I had thought he might come back eventually, but he never did. I never saw him again after that night, nor ever knew his name.